


A Baggins in Bag End

by hobbit_hedgehog



Category: The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canon Compliant, Family, Post The Hobbit, Pre Lord of the Rings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 19:23:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2823272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbit_hedgehog/pseuds/hobbit_hedgehog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins finds himself in need of an heir at the age of 99.  Frodo Baggins is the perfect option.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Baggins in Bag End

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe that it's taken me this long to write fanfiction for Middle Earth, Lord of the Rings is one of my biggest obsessions. This is book canon compliant, taking place in TA 2989 when Bilbo adopted Frodo. Dates and ages are as accurate as I could get them, feel free to correct me. Enjoy!

Bilbo supposed that he knew he could not readjust to the simple life of a hobbit when he returned to the Shire, if he had been able to return at all. It had been many years since Bilbo had joined the company of Thorin Oakenshield and had changed; for better or worse, Bilbo could not say. Bilbo knew that he was aging, as he was ninety nine years old, but due to some unknown reason (though Bilbo guessed it had something to do with the magic ring he had found in the cave), he seemed no older than he had been when Gandalf shoved him out of the door of Bag End all those years ago. Despite the lack of change in his outward appearance, Bilbo felt like he had aged immensely in the last forty nine years. He was tired, stretched thin and worn down by something that the hobbit could not place. Was it the memory of lost friends? Or was it simply the passage of time? Bilbo could not say, but he knew that there was emptiness in his life, and it had been there since he had returned from the Lonely Mountain.

Gandalf and Balin had visited once, about two decades previously. It was an autumn evening and Bilbo had been writing his memoirs, tentatively titled “There and Back Again, a Hobbit’s Holiday, when Gandalf and the aging dwarf called upon the hobbit. They had sat by the fire and talked of things to the east and of the tales now told by the survivors of the Battle of Five Armies. Bilbo had told his friends of life in the Shire and of his ever growing extended family.

“My first cousin Primula Brandybuck and my second cousin Drogo Baggins had a son not too long ago,” Bilbo had mentioned after taking the tobacco jar back from Balin. “I believe his name is Frodo. Looks like a Baggins if I ever saw one. And not an ounce of Tookishness in him.”

“I wouldn’t say that my dear Bilbo,” Gandalf had replied after a moment of thought. “He may surprise us all, just like you did.”

“Only time will tell Gandalf,” Bilbo had snorted. “Only time will tell.”

That had been twenty years ago, and Bilbo had seen neither Gandalf nor Balin since then. Nor had he given much thought to his cousins and their young son. He had seen them several times when Frodo was still a young hobbit, not much bigger than a loaf of bread. Bilbo had taken Frodo for walks around the Shire and had pointed out trails where elves were most likely to tread, but after a number of years, Bilbo had lost contact with his extended family. The rest of Bilbo’s family had been weary of him once he had returned from Erebor and Bilbo had finally grown tired of it all. He had cut himself off from the family, including young Frodo. When news reached Bilbo that Primula and Drogo had drowned and young Frodo was orphaned at the age of twelve, he was barely fazed. The question of whether or not Bilbo would potentially adopted Frodo was dismissed immediately and Frodo was sent to live with his Brandybuck cousins in Brandy Hall.

For some inexplicable reason beyond Bilbo’s comprehension, Frodo had been at the forefront of the aging hobbit’s mind. Despite his middle aged appearance, Bilbo knew that at some point he would need to pass on his legacy to someone in the family. He knew that if things were left alone, his family would swoop in and auction his possessions off again. Bilbo knew that none of his other relatives were truly worthy of the treasures of Bag End, but somehow, Frodo seemed the most worthy out of all of them. Bilbo recalled Frodo’s love for wandering the Shire and his proclivity for languages. Bilbo guessed that the boy would be about twenty one now, not too old, not too young. Bilbo had plenty of room in Bag End for Frodo and after several weeks of deliberation, Bilbo made up his mind. There must always be a Baggins in Bag End.

Two weeks later, Bilbo stood outside Brandy Hall. Bilbo’s mouth twitched and he sniffed, his hand raised to knock on the door. Bilbo’s palms were sweaty and he was nervous for the first time in almost forty years. It should be a simple matter to deal with; he just needed to go in, have a conversation with the head of the household, meet with Frodo and then leave. It wasn’t that hard of a task, and yet Bilbo was concerned; concerned that he would be turned away from Brandy Hall, concerned that Frodo had been sent somewhere else, concern that Frodo wouldn’t want to move into Bag End. Bilbo was so consumed by his thoughts that he didn’t notice the door opening.

“Can I help you sir?” came a timid voice from the doorway.

Bilbo snapped out of his revere and stared. Standing before him was a young hobbit. Bilbo noted that the boy looked remarkably like his mother, his dark hair piled in curls atop his dark head, his blue eyes wide as he stared at the older hobbit. Biblo’s mouth twitched into a small smile and he cleared his throat.

“Hello, you must be Frodo,” Bilbo said, extending his hand towards the younger hobbit. “You may remember me, I’m Bilbo Baggins. Your parents were my cousins.”

Frodo squinted at Bilbo for a moment before a look of dawning comprehension crossed his face. He grinned and launched himself at Bilbo, pulling the surprised older hobbit in for a hug, “It’s wonderful to see you Uncle Bilbo! I was wondering when you were coming to visit! You’re late.”

Bilbo stood shocked for a moment before smiling and hugging the younger hobbit, “I’m sorry Frodo; it has been a long time. I actually have a question for you.”

Frodo pulled back and looked at Bilbo, his smile wide, “What is it Uncle Bilbo?”

“How would you like to come live in Bag End with me? I’d like for you to be my adoptive heir.”

Frodo stared for a moment before whispering, “Do you mean it?”

“Of course I do my dear Frodo,” Bilbo replied. “You’re a Baggins after all. It only makes sense that you live in Bag End with me.”

Frodo hugged Bilbo again before rushing inside, calling for the head of the Brandybuck household. Bilbo followed Frodo inside and after several hours of negotiating and packing, Bilbo and Frodo were making the trek back to Bag End. Frodo’s excitement was clearly visible, as he talked endlessly and animatedly while Bilbo just grinned and lead the way back to the hobbit hole, answering questions as best as he could. The pair finally made their way up the hill and came to gate of Bag End. Frodo dropped his pack at the gate and stared. Bilbo merely smiled and opened the gate for Frodo.

“Welcome to Bag End Frodo,” Bilbo said. “Your new home.”


End file.
